


You Will Always Have a Part of Me

by acaelousqueadcentrum



Series: Heart to Heart [6]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Baby Fic, F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaelousqueadcentrum/pseuds/acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver visits Gail in the hospital after her son is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Will Always Have a Part of Me

When Gail woke again, Oliver was sitting in Holly’s chair by the side of her bed, engrossed in some game on his phone. He didn’t notice her right away, but when he finally raised his eyes and saw her looking back at him, he gave her a big grin. 

He put down his phone and lay his hand upon her leg. “Well, well,” he said with a kind and teasing tone, “so nice of you to join us, Officer Peck.” He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “You gave us all quite a scare there, darling.” 

Gail swallowed before responding, her mouth a little dry and her throat still sore. 

"Where’s Hol," she asked, a little proud that she was able to form the words without stuttering. 

Oliver looked down at her with his warm, caring eyes. “Now, don’t you worry about your girl, Peck, I sent her home to get some sleep. Told her I’d arrest her if she didn’t go. Of course, that probably means that she’s crashing somewhere out in the hall or that she’s gone to the nursery to hang out with your boy. But she’ll be back soon, I’m sure. I don’t think she trusts me to keep you out of trouble for long.” 

The laugh, even though it sent white hot sparks of pain down her side, felt good. It felt good to be awake enough to even recognize that she was in pain, actually. For the most part, everything she could remember was blurry, confused by the veil of heavy-duty narcotics she was on. She could remember being awake a few times, could remember seeing Holly’s face and hearing Holly’s voice, but this was the first time she really felt awake, really felt alive. And in a small way, she’s kind of glad that Holly’s not here. Because Holly would be asking her how she felt, and calling for the nurse to come and put her back to sleep. Oliver won’t do that, Gail knows. Oliver will know that she needs to feel things for a little while—even the pain. He’ll know that she needs to feel clear and in control of herself, if only for a little while. 

Oliver began to tell her little stories of the antics that had gone on around the station in her absence while she half-listened and devoted the rest of her attention to sorting through her hazy memories of the past week. 

It hit her suddenly, the way it always did when she wasn’t thinking specifically of it. The strange mix of wonder and fear and love. 

"Ollie," she said out loud in a husky voice, "I’m a mom. I have a son." 

Oliver put a fatherly hand upon her forehead. She might not be his daughter, but he’d be damned if he didn’t love her as if she were. She reminded him a lot of himself at times, and of Izzy, too. He liked all of his rookies, he truly did. But Gail was special. Gail he loved. 

"I know, Gail," he said as he looked down at her with a sad expression on his face, "I know. And I know this whole thing didn’t go exactly according to plan, and I’m sincerely sorry for that, but everything is going to be okay, you’re all going to be okay. You’ve got a beautiful little boy. Oh, he’s a wee mite of a thing, darling, but he is most definitely a Peck. He’s feisty, and packs a hell of a wallop already. You should be proud." 

"You’ve seen him," she said. 

"That I have, Peck. He’s had round-the-clock visitors from what I’ve heard. Most popular guy on the block." It’s true, of course. Baby boy Peck-Stewart had not been alone since the moment he was born (nor had his mother, for that matter). There was always someone with him in the NICU: Holly, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, an honorary aunt or uncle. The 15 was a close-knit family, and this little boy was one of their own. They looked out for their own. There was practically a schedule. Yesterday he and Celery had spent the first part of the night there, relieving Holly’s mother and brother Henry, and had been sent home four hours later by Dov and Chloe. Right now Steve was there keeping an eye on his first nephew, and Oliver knew that the Pecks had been there earlier in the day. 

Gail smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course he is,” she said, “he’s the coolest kid there.” 

Oliver laughed. “That’s right, Peck, that’s right.” 

She opened her eyes again, and he was startled by the vulnerability in those striking blue irises. 

"Tell me," she said, almost whispering. 

It took him a second to realize what she was asking. 

"Tell you about him? I’m sure Holly’s been keeping you up to date," he replied. 

Gail licked her dry lips, and Oliver reached over for the cup of mostly-melted ice chips. After she drank her fill, she gave him a sigh. “She has. I mean, I think she has,” she said with a curious look on her face, “Everything’s kind of blurry, you know? She showed me pictures, I think. But I can’t really remember. And you know her, Ollie, she’s trying so hard to pretend like everything’s okay…” 

As she trailed off, Oliver stood and reached into his pocket for his phone. 

"Well, then," he said as he sat down on the edge of her bed, "first and foremost, Officer Peck, you need to see a picture of your boy. And lucky you, I seem to have a few on my phone here. Now, this one here is from day three? No, day four. He’s getting a bath and can you see? He’s just howling mad. Looks just like you here, what with that dark blonde hair sticking up all over the place and that scrunchy face he’s making." 

She looked down at the image, a finger tracing over the lines of her son’s features. The look on her face was almost reverent, and it was clear to Oliver how absolutely in awe she was. How absolutely in love. He remembered the feeling, remembered how the world had shifted under his feet the first time the doctor had placed Izzy in his arms. How all of a sudden true north became the tiny bundle in his arms. 

"Oh," he swiped to the next picture, "and this one is from yesterday. It was my turn to keep him company and he just passed right out in my arms after drinking his whole bottle like a champ. But before that, well, he just sat there looking up at me with these big blue eyes, not a care in the world. Just kind of staring up, like he was trying to figure me out. I gotta tell you, Peck, I’m pretty tempted to steal him away from you while you’re all weak and helpless." 

Gail glared at him from the pile of pillows she was propped up on, “You try it and I’ll arrest you, Oliver. I’ll throw you in a cell with the smelliest drunk I can find.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Two days out of a coma, little more than a week after she’d almost died, and Gail Peck was still a force to be reckoned with. 

Oliver was just so glad she was going to be okay. 

His phone buzzed quietly, and he looked down with a smile. 

"Now," he said in a soft voice, "this one, this one is definitely a keeper. I know you can’t really see their faces too well, but according to Steve they’re both fast asleep and snoring together." He held the phone up so that she could see the picture her brother had just sent. It was beautiful. Holly was stretched out on one of the recliners up in the NICU, eyes closed, mouth open in sleep, and clearly dead to the world. Her shirt, some button-up thing, was open, as was her bra beneath. And nestled right in the space over her heart, tucked against her bare skin between her breasts, was their little boy. Holly’s hand lay on his back, just over the blanket that covered the baby’s body and her breasts, holding him steady as they slept. 

Oliver was right, she couldn’t see their faces all that well—strands of hair covered her wife’s face, and her son had burrowed his nose into his other mother’s skin—but she could see enough. She had seen enough to start to pick out those parts of him that he had clearly inherited from Holly and Holly’s side of the family. The shape of his face, the color of his skin, his mouth—his mouth was all Holly. In fact, he was doing the very same open-mouth thing that Holly did when she slept, the same exact thing she was doing just above him. 

Gail understood now, maybe for the first time, why Holly had been so adamant about asking Steve to donate his sperm way back at the beginning of this journey. Was glad that when plans had changed, Holly’s brother Henry had been willing to donate his. Because to look down at their son and see, so clearly, not only herself but his other mother reflected in his features? To know that he was as much a part of Holly as he was a part of her? It was like magic. 

"I knew she wouldn’t take that threat seriously," Oliver continued as she stared down at his phone, "I’m going to have to arrest your wife, kid." 

Her smile faded just the slightest as she looked up at him. “How is she, Oliver? She tells me she’s fine but she’s not. I know she’s not.” 

Oliver sighed, and moved back to the chair at the side of the bed. “Well, kiddo, she almost lost you, and your son. So she’s had a rough go of it this past week. I don’t think she’s left the hospital at all, even though we’ve tried. She’s better now though. The first couple of days were the worst. You were in the ICU and the kid was in the NICU and no matter where she was she felt like she needed to be at the other. And the longer you were unconscious the worse it got for her. I think at one point your mom threatened to have her admitted if she didn’t just sit down and eat something.” 

He looked over at her again, and waited until she looked back. “But then you woke up, and even though she’s still running herself ragged, she’s better. And she’ll keep getting better as long as you and that kid are headed in the right direction.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments while she looked down at the picture on his phone some more, a small, precious smile on her face. And when she spoke, he almost didn’t hear the words. But he didn’t need to, he knew what she wanted to say. It was written all over her face when she lifted her head to look at him. 

“Thank you, Oliver, for watching out for her. For them.” 

It was, perhaps, the most un-Gail-like thing that had ever come out of her mouth. 

It was beautiful. 

He grinned back at her, fully aware that he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge what had just happened. “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t do it for free, my dear. Let’s talk about names. Your wife refuses to tell anyone what you’re naming the kid. Says it’s something you two have to discuss. So if you’re really grateful, Peck, you’ll choose wisely and choose ‘Oliver.’” 

Her laugh came out sounding more like a cough, and he saw the grimace of pain on her face again, but he knew not to bring it up. 

“I’m not naming my kid ‘Oliver,’ Ollie,” she answered back with a yawn. 

He pretended to be affronted at her rejection. “Why not,” he asked, “It’s a name fit for kings, Gail, for kings.” 

She responded with an impressive roll of her eyes, and settled further back against her pillows, “Kings, really? Give me one king named Oliver.” 

“King Oliver? You’ve never heard of King Oliver? Good ol’ Joe Oliver, master of jazz? ‘Canal Street Blues?’ ‘Doctor Jazz?’ None of this ringing a bell, Peck?” He shook his head at her and sighed as she blinked hard, trying to keep her eyes open. “Everything Louis Armstrong knew, Joe Oliver knew it first and did it better. I cannot believe—Peck, when you’re back on the street you and I are going to spend some quality time together while I educate you in the greatest musical genre known to humankind. Second only to anything Bruce Springsteen does.” 

He could tell she was getting tired again, and that she was trying with all her might to fight it off. So he pulled out one of his old tricks for getting the girls to sleep when they were younger. He started to tell her all about the history of jazz, gradually letting his voice get slower and softer as he talked. It always worked pretty well with his kids, sending them off into their dreams even as they struggled to stay awake and hear the rest of whatever story they’d chosen that night. It worked pretty well on hard-ass cops too, apparently, because Gail was soon fast asleep again, his phone still clutched tight in her hand and a little smile on her face. 

Oliver smiled and leaned back in the chair, looking around before putting his feet up on the rails of her bed. Holly would be back soon enough, he thought to himself, might as well catch a few winks while he had the chance. Another trick from way back when that he’d have to share with Gail—sleep when they’re sleeping. 

When Holly came back into Gail’s room an hour or so later, feeling rested after a nap with her son, that’s how she found them. Both fast asleep, and smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Follows both _Heart to Heart_ and the boat prompt (ch.5 of _Shine Your Light On Me_ ).


End file.
